old me that he loved me, and though I have seen him often since, he
has never found another moment to speak to me alone, not for one five
minutes. Oh, Antonia! let me have one five minutes this afternoon! He
is going away, and there is to be war, and I may never, never see him
again!"

"Do not weep, little dove. How can you see him this afternoon?"

"He will be here, in this very place, I know he will. When he put the
suchil flower to his lips last night he made me understand it. This
afternoon, during the hour of siesta, will you come with me? Only for
five minutes, Antonia! You can manage Rachela, I am sure you can."

"I can manage Rachela, and you shall have one whole hour, Iza. One
whole hour! Come, now, we must make a visit to our mother. She will be
wondering at our delay."

The Senora had not yet risen. She had taken her chocolate and smoked her
cigarito, but was still drowsing. "I have had a bad night, children,"
she said full of dreadful dreams. "It must have been that American. Yet,
Holy Mother, how handsome he is! And I assure you that he has the good
manners of a courtier. Still, it was an imprudence, and Senora Valdez
will make some great thing of it."

"You were in your own house, mother. What has Senora Valdez to do with
the guest in it? We might as well make some great thing about Captain
Morello being present at her party."

"I have to say to you, Antonia, that Morello is a Castilian; his family
is without a cross. He has the parchments of his noble ancestry to
show."

"And Senor Houston is an American--Scotch-American, he said, last night.
Pardon, my mother, but do you know what the men of Scotland are?"

"Si!, They are monsters! Fray Ignatius has told me. They are heretics
of the worst kind. It is their special delight to put to death good
Catholic priests. I saw that in a book; it must be true."

"Oh, no, mother! It is not true! It is mere nonsense. Scotchmen do not
molest priests, women, and children. They are the greatest fighters in
the world."

"Quien sabe? Who has taught you so much about these savages?"

"Indeed, mother, they are not savages. They are a very learned race of
men, and very pious also. Jack has many Scotch-American friends. I know
one of them very well"; and with the last words her face flushed, and
her voice fell insensibly into slow and soft inflections.

"Jack knows many of them! That is likely. Your father would send him to
New York. All kinds of men are in New Y